REDONDOWRITER'S SACRED ORDINARY

Happy Easter From Redondo Beach, California

What a lovely day it has been so far! It began with services at Christ Episcopal Church just down the street from my home. 

After church, the annual egg hunt was held on the church lawns--and what a delight it was to see all the kids scurrying to fill their baskets. 

This Easter was the first one without John Simpson, famous for his booming alleluias. When he passed away last year, we put up a small bronze plaque in church over where he always sat in his scooter. 

After church, my daughter Christy, my granddaughter Whitney, and Whit's dad Lorenzo came over and we went to breakfast at one of our local landmark restaurants, near my house--The Cozy Cafe. I was also celebrating my granddaughter's 25th birthday. This is my daughter, granddaughter and me. I'm wearing a top that my friend Lorna in Wonderland sent from Canada. If you click Lorna, you'll see a recount of when they recently visited California. 

Below is a photo of my daughter-in-law Laura with grandsons Zachary and Arlo on the ferry from Port Angeles to Victoria, B.C. where they celebrated Zach's sixth birthday this weekend. 

My son Tony and his family were at Notre Dame de Paris on Palm Sunday a week ago and instead of palms, they brought me this sprig of green given to the tourists. 

Now I'm off to write in my journal on my sunny patio -- about Easter and spring's renewal. I like to use this day to refocus my own life each year and recount my gratitudes. 

 

Postcards: Palm Sunday Walk From Jerusalem's Mount of Olives

Rebecca's Sunday challenge is called Postcards from Paradise, but I guess it's hard for me to think of Jerusalem as paradise on this Palm Sunday 2012. I have relived our pilgrimage to the Holy Land over and over again and so much of it was pure joy. Seeing all the sites Jesus walked that last week of his life is forever imprinted in memory.

This is a photo I took of old Jerusalem and the Temple Mount in 2011 as our pilgrimage group made its way down the hillside to the Garden of Gethsemane. 

GoIsrael describes the awe and wonder of the Palm Sunday walk much better than I can. 

"The view from the Mount of Olives is wondrous: the densely packed walled city of Jerusalem embraced by the Hinnom and Kidron valleys, the Golden Gate to Mount Moriah, the Temple Mount, Mount Zion, City of David and more, bring alive both prophecy and Psalms. It is from the Mount of Olives, with its view not only toward the Holy City and its green surroundings, but toward the wilderness, that one understands how Jerusalem got one of its earliest names, Zion (2 Sam. 5:7), which comes from a word meaning desert. 

On the eastern slope of the Mount of Olives is Bethany, where a beautiful church marks the home of Lazarus, Mary and Martha (John 1:11), and where visitors can descend and emerge dramatically from the traditional tomb of Lazarus, whom Jesus raised from the dead (John 11:43).

The Palm Sunday Walk, which begins at Bethphage, follows the traditional path Jesus took in his triumphal entry to the Holy City (John 12:13-15). It stops in the quiet garden chapel of Dominus Flevit, marking the site where Jesus wept over Jerusalem (Luke 19:41), and then passes the ancient Jewish cemetery, where the deceased await the resurrection when the Messiah comes to the Mount of Olives (Zach. 14:4). This is an important place to pause and consider that the Mount of Olives is not only a geographical link between the desert and the fertile Jerusalem hills, it is the spiritual link between death and life, also emphasized by the resurrection of Lazarus in Bethany. 

In the early days of Christianity, monks came to the Mount of Olives in large numbers, seeking the solitude of its heights where they could deepen their understanding of these and other Scriptural truths.  

The Palm Sunday walk culminates in the Garden of Gethsemane, one of the most dramatic sites on a Christian itinerary." 

All I know is that studying scripture and the life of Jesus came alive for me last year and I am grateful I had the experience of following in Jesus' footsteps. 

Postcards from Paradise: Redondo Beach from Palos Verdes

Our weather in Southern California has been absolutely spectacular the past few days making me even more aware of how good I feel now compared to how I've felt the past four months. As I grow older I am no longer tolerant to cold and dark, but I just keep on keeping on. It's only when the days grow longer and warmth returns that I remember that emotionally there are two mes. One me has a sunny disposition in spring, summer and fall, and one me really slows down (hibernates in a way) when the days are so short and cold. All I can say is that when my mom and dad moved their family in the 1930s from Michigan to California, my sunny future was cast, and for that I am grateful. I was born late in that decade and I've lived in California ever since--different places, but in the South Bay area of L.A. County for the past 50 years. 

I took this photo about three years ago from a friend's home in the Malaga Cove area of Palos Verdes. That's Redondo Beach below with views all the way to Santa Monica. If you had a magnifying glass, you would see my townhouse somewhere tucked into the front third of the photo, two blocks back from the Redondo Beach Pier. 

I know I've said this ad nauseum, but somehow or other, never planned, I got plunked down in Redondo Beach after my divorce and I never knew I could love a place so much. It's nothing really special, I guess, compared to full-on resorts, but I am deeply moved by the fact or fluke that I am privileged to live here. Lorna and Dave are visiting from Canada right now and up until the past few days, it's been pretty chilly. In long Ottawa winters, they will remember these past few days, I'm sure. When my son and family visited a few weeks ago from Washington state, the weather wasn't as nice as it is now, but to them it was warm even when I thought it was cold.  

To see more Postcard from Paradise, visit Rebecca at Recuerda mi Corazon. 

Postcards from Paradise: Son and Grandson in Surf

As most of you know who are either face-to-face or cyber friends, I consider myself to be blessed to live in what feels like paradise to me: Redondo Beach, California, USA. Redondo Beach is not a resort by any means, but to live by the ocean was always a dream. This photo of my eldest son Joe and his son Zach was taken on Friday at the beach at Ave. A and the Esplanade in Redondo Beach. It was a beautiful day and dolphins would occasionally leap out of the water and pelicans were diving straight down. The Santa Monica mountains and the hills of Palos Verdes were crystal clear. 

My ex-husband came down and joined the family on the sand to watch Zach and Arlo play tag with the little waves. I was in awe that my first born, Joe, was home and it looks like his four serious surgeries for detached retinas are complete and he is feeling quite well. 

The fly in the ointment (but like Ecclesiastes, for every time there is a season), my dog Mollie bit Zach on the cheek later that evening leaving two puncture wounds and a black eye, but Laura, his mom, says he is functioning well during their San Diego weekend. I'm so grateful it wasn't worse and though Mollie has always seemed a mild-mannered dog, Zach was rough housing with her in a situation where she couldn't escape. I'll be far more wary about having her play too roughly with kids in the future, however.  

To see more Postcards from Paradise, visit Rebecca at Recuerda mi Corazon. 

Postcards from Paradise: Thinking Again About Thomas Merton

Because the late mystic Trappist monk Thomas Merton has played such an important role in my life in earlier times, I write about him periodically here. When I sat down to post to Rebecca's Postcards from Paradise Sunday, Merton was on my mind. This is my favorite quote of his from "Love of Solitude, Part II, 'Thoughts in Solitude.'" 

“My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road, though I may know nothing about it. Therefore, I will trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.”

This is a favorite photo of him in the fields at Gethsemane Abbey where he lived in community until his death at the age of 57. (Credit: Sybille Akers)

His autobiography "The Seven Storey Mountain" was my introduction to Merton decades back. I own all the books he wrote and periodically watch the fine documentaries that have been produced about him. PBS’s Soul Searching: The Journey of Thomas Merton is one of the best; I highly recommend it. I did my M.A. thesis on Merton: Dialogues With Thomas Merton. Once, when I was traveling with students to Columbia University for a summer journalism program, I was given access to the materials about him in Columbia’s archives—and I made a mini pilgrimage that week to the places he had lived and frequented.

So, out of sight is definitely not out of mind where Thomas Merton is concerned. Monk, mystic, artist, author, poet, photographer. His all-too-human life has long been inspirational to me personally. 

 

 

 

 

Thomas Merton in the fields near the Abbey of Gethsemani. 

 

Postcards From Paradise: Peace to All Who Enter Here

PEACE TO ALL WHO ENTER HERE 

THIS IS THE ENTRANCE TO MY TOWNHOUSE COMPLEX IN REDONDO BEACH: VILLA REDONDO

When I returned from church to my townhouse complex this morning, I started walking through the corridor before our gate and I had an ah-hah moment. This is the entrance to my beautiful home that I take for granted. I put my purse down, pulled out my point and shoot, and now I start my new year saying thank you, thank you, thank you.  Am I lucky, or what? I live in paradise, or at least to me it is paradise. 

There was a time when I thought I'd open a spiritual bed and breakfast here after I retired and I named my place (at least to myself) Sanctuary Center. I even made a little sign that sits in the main window by the front door. But, instead I have continued to work part-time and now the aging me thinks that a b&b is more work than I'm willing to do. But, my home, Sanctuary Center, still exists in spirit; it has just morphed into something else. I long ago set the intent that solace and joy would be found here. Most of the 25 years I've lived here, I've had a housemate. All three of my children lived here off an on before they settled into their own lives. Three of the years two of my grandkids lived here while they finished high school. I have an ongoing journal workshop that has met here since 1990, I see an occasional spiritual directee here, welcome anyone who wants to do SoulCollage®, and four dogs during these years have found a home here. One of my former roommates still comes from Ojai one or two nights a week when she sees clients in her psychotherapy practice. My eldest son and his family come once or twice a year and Sanctuary Center welcomes guests who simply need a haven or a vacation sometimes. I have frequent house guests. To say nothing of how I have unfolded here myself. I was broken when I arrived--my long-term marriage had ended in 1984, my kids were largely out to school, and I had just begun to date. Breast cancer was diagnosed in 1989--and again in 1997. Who was I? Who was I to become? I knew who I had been -- a wife, a mother, a daughter, a sister, a friend, a community activist, a communications specialist. But, now what? 

When I was doing my journal new years eve year in review last night, a tradition I've had for many long years, I realized something. I long ago stopped dating as it became clear to me that a second marriage or even a long-term relationship was probably not in the cards for me. During the years I've truly been alone here without a man in my life (since 1997) I have learned to be alone pretty darned comfortably. I have a tendency to adapt to people, especially men; I am a rescuer by nature, but by living alone, with lots of time to think, to write, to create, to play, I've become Fran aka Redondowriter, the woman who keeps this blog and is very rarely bored. 

Sometime this past few weeks, when I've been off work and nursing bronchitis, I watched Dr. Oz and one of his guests said an old cliche, but this time I "got it." The past is history--the future is mystery--we only have now."

Thank you, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, for the awareness I have that in some crazy way I have been living in paradise the past 25 years. (Probably all my life, for that matter; I just wasn't aware.)

To see other people's versions of Postcards from Paradise, visit Rebecca's Recuerda mi Corazon. 

 

Postcards from Paradise: Santorini While Listening to Coldplay

It's time for Rebecca's Postcards from Paradise Sunday. One of the most beautiful places I've ever visited was the Greek island of Santorini. Though I have photos of my own, none are as spectacular as this one from one of the Greek charter boat companies.

This photo of a young couple watching the sun set on Santorini is one I took. They seemed to epitomize romantic love to me. 

Ah, I hope they are as happy now as they were almost four years ago when I shot this photo. But, I digress.

Sometimes people assume that older people don't like younger people's music. They would be wrong on my case! For instance, I love Coldplay. (But, I also love the Stones, The Who, and so many other groups from the 1960s and 1970s.) So, while I was thinking of Santorini, I decided to play Paradise by Coldplay. Now I feel like a kid again! 

 

 

Postcards from Paradise: My Six Grandchildren

Now that Dia de los Muertos has passed, Rebecca at Recuerda mi Corazon brought back Postcards from Paradise on Sundays. She describes Postcards as, “--finding sacred in the ordinary and the joy that comes with sharing, a chance to visit others offerings and leave a word of kindness as we walk together in the art of seeing.”

The name of my blog, instituted in November 2003, is called Sacred Ordinary and above all things in my life, I try to be aware of the simple things in life. Do I always succeed? Hardly! But last night I watched my grandsons Henry (8) and Fritz (7) while their parents went out to celebrate their tenth wedding anniversary. I had a ball, as always. Today my two eldest grandchildren, Whitney (24) and Anthony (23) came by to visit with their folks. While we were together we called the Port Angeles, WA family and got to speak with Zach (5) and Arlo (3). Tonight I celebrate my grandchildren. How proud I am of them all.

This photo was taken at Christmas last year. Since then Whitney earned her R.N. and begins work in two weeks at Centinela Hospital. Anthony is going to college full-time and working as an emergency vehicle driver, too. He wants to be a paramedic someday. 

And this is Henry at a recent Peninsula Friends of the Library used book sale. He and his brother are avid readers, thanks to their parents. Henry also loves all things military--gulp!

Oh, the wonder of it all, Fritz seems to be saying. He and his brother are avid builders and Fritz is becoming an expert on birds. 

This is Zach, who started kindergarten this past fall and recently broke his arm on the school playground, but he's splinted and doing great.  

And this is, "I'm a big guy now" Arlo, who is a bundle of boy. Here he is in a tree at Veteran's Park in Redondo Beach. He told me today, "Grandma Fran, I can spell my name--A-R-L-O." 

One of the perks of being an elder, for me personally, is seeing my three children all grown and doing well, and to see their kids thriving, too. It's not all a bed of roses, but they are definitely sacred ordinary. 

Pullara Preparations Begin for Dia de Los Muertos

Ah, it's Postcards From Paradise Sunday, but for the month of October Rebecca at Recuerda Mi Corazon has challenged us to share our preparations for Dia de Las Muertos via Dia de Bloglandia. As she says:

"so much more than the art of remembering our loved ones

dia de los muertos

is also a tradition

 that sings to the soul of the living, reminding us to...live wildly

straight from our hearts!"

I had company this weekend and lots to prepare for church, my religious ed class, and filling out paperwork for my pieces that will be in the Redondo Beach Art Group's Power of Art two weekend show, but I managed to do the following. 

Sophia the Art Mannikin asked to be part of the ofrenda this year so she began trying on clothes from her fall collection, settling on this outfit for this week. I did unbox all of the ofrenda materials and we were both delighted to find a vase we had forgotten about. And the sign around her neck actually resides permanently in a bookcase, but she's displaying it for now. 

This is the wreath I made on Friday night. The black wreath itself and the flowers were from Michael's post Halloween sale table last year. The bride skull came from the Dollar Store. 

Last year I bought this papier mache bride and groom at the San Pedro Day of the Dead celebration. On the ofrenda this year it will stand next to the beloved photo of my mom and dad on their wedding day. 

Those of you who know me know that I delight in finding, refurbishing and recycling used stuff--or certainly buying stuff on sale if I possibly can. I picked up this old school chair many years ago and painted it olive green. The metal vase is also many years old, from a Michael's sale table. There is a big dent in the back. Yes, the flowers were post fall on sale many years ago. And you get a peek at the courtyard of our townhouse in the Villa Redondo complex. 

Tonight I hope to have quiet time in the living room to begin writing memories of some of my family, friends and heroes and heroines I admire who have passed on. Death does not end a relationship. 

As Rebecca also says today:

"Dios mio!!!

WAKE UP!!!!!

 live brave, believe in good..

offer change, strive for a better world.

live fervoroso,

burning hot!

 

 

 

Postcards from Paradise: Helen Turns 101

At Rebecca's Postcards from Paradise challenge at Recuerda mi Corazon today, she asks, "Now tell me mi amors.. in the spirit of connection, where has paradise taken you?"

It took me to a celebration at church today for Helen (second from left) who turned 101. On the right is our Music Director David Bradfield who picks Helen up every Sunday and takes her to church, and that's me on the left. I don't know the lady's name in pink, but we had a full hall today wishing Helen the best. 

Helen, who certainly doesn't look her age, but does have hearing and walking problems, was so happy at her party today. I'm glad I got to be a little bit of her piece of paradise. By the way, she is wearing a prayer shawl a parishoner made for her, as she does every Sunday.